The Crystal Chronicles
by Racheakt
Summary: It was this day our lives changed forever. This is our record, of the adventures that befell us in the years of our wanderings- and what became of us. Our hopes, and our dreams. Remember us.
1. Chapter 1, Prelude

A note from the Author, 'Journal of the First Year Arc'

_Final Fantasy: the Crystal Chronicles_ is not an overly well-known game. In no way does it stand out from the rest of the illustrious _Final Fantasy_ franchise. It is overshadowed in nearly every way by the epic beauty of the others, and is largely forgotten.

However, the story, though not elaborated on unnecessarily, contains a beauty and a radiance of its own. Every _Final Fantasy_ game contains this spark, the spirit of wonder and adventure just waiting to draw you in. I hope to do it justice.

I think there will be four arcs, each about two years of the journey, or at least spaced every two years. Most of the general plot is already decided; I just got to write it out.

I invite all who so desire, to read, even if you've never played the game. May you judge this humble offering worthy.

-Also, one final bit of trivia. Every in-game artifact will be mentioned in passing or make a brief appearance at some point (or a not-so-brief appearance). Though, maybe not exactly as you think they might… Can you find them all?

The Crystal Chronicles

A Novelization

By Racheakt

O, Keepers of The Crystal…

_Thy Memories to The Light Shall Flow_

_Forgotten Jewels That Loose Their Glow_

_In Time They Shall Return Anew_

_To Be Gathered Like Drops of Dew_

_Journey Fourth!_

_Seek The Water Of Life._

-The _Prelude_, written upon a caravan way stone, author unknown

The mountain overhead was a broken outline edged in storm. Clouds billowed all about it, but no rain fell. The subtle stench of poison and decay wafted from the crater floor. Like carrion in the night.

It was bitterly cold.

This place was the grave of an age long past, hungry to consume them as well, and the wind howled in the air.

Or perhaps it was silent and other things, close at hand, howled.

It didn't matter. This is where they were- where they had come to be- and it was too late to turn back now. Not when they had come so far and done so much. Not with the faith placed upon them.

Not now.

There were hope and dreams on the road behind them.

There was blood and toil on the road behind them.

There were friends and tears on the road behind them.

All these things were their legs as they walked forward into the howls of madness, and the darkness of the lonely mountain. And, like a brooding sentry on the very edge of the world, it waited to greet them.

But, that is not the beginning.

**Chapter 1 – The Prelude**

It was the threshold of day.

Stars were bright overhead, a handful of diamonds scattered across black velvet, but dawn was not far off. Late spring winds sighed in the trees, bearing the sound and scent of the ocean, as the first pallor began to creep over the horizon. It was cool, but not quite chill. The cold teeth of winter had finally fled in its entirety and left space in its wake for the heat of summer in Tipa.

A girl, not quite a woman, sat atop the sea cliffs and watched the growing light. She was slender, not willowy, but lean grown with life and work in the woodlands. Hair of a rich golden brown was held up, away from her face by a band of leather, then let loose, trailing down her back to brush her shoulders. Her clothes were all of a similar sensible sort, hard-wearing traveling cloths meant for weeks on the road. Honeyed brown eyes watched with caged excitement as the dawn slowly brightened.

The light rose, and it reminded her of song. Like a song- a gentle chant to the night and day, gently rising in chorus, half-light that belonged to neither…

A minute's walk below her, Tipa slumbered in the thin morning fog. A hamlet perched on the sea, beneath the leaves of trees. Wooden cottages slept unlit. Then the stillness was broken by running feet. A very short person ran by, metal armor clanking in the morning stillness. Marked by a distinctive ruddy complexion and stiff, reedy hair; this was a Lilty, and the shopkeeper's son, El Cid.

As if his passing marked some signal, candles were lit and windows grew bright as the village stirred. An immediate atmosphere marked the sounds of waking. Today was the day the caravan departed.

El Cid rounded the bend. Glancing up at one of the houses, clearly still in the early stages of awakening, he changed course, passing through the village square. In the middle stood an open-air shrine, a circle of stairs winding about a great crystal of snowy white that glimmered with an ethereal radiance as the stars began to fade. A young man, still half-awake, blinked owlishly after him as he disappeared around the smithy, the boy was still a youth, but sturdily muscled, broad shouldered, with arms built by hours at his family's forge. He was bare-headed, and brown hair hung freely past his ears, framing a thin, well proportioned face with somber expression. He was dressed in a tunic and breeches of undyed wool and a thick belt of leather. A sword hung by his side, a buckler was slung over his pack. He hefted a large travel pack over one shoulder as he clasped hands with an older man and kissed his mother. Two younger children stood by, silent, wide-eyed and solemn. He knelt and spoke to each of them, a word each before he stood and marched through the morning.

Across the square, a window was pushed open and a girl with hair like quicksilver leaped out, twisting once in the air before landing neatly on the balls of her feet. She stood, looked both ways, and, satisfied that she had escaped detection, walked off down the road, much to the bemusement of the smithy family.

Upon the rise a breeze was picking up, and the girl with golden hair stood, eyes closed, letting the sun warm her face, arms spread to embrace the light. The breeze whipped her hair about her face, and she smiled.

A clatter on the path behind her heralded the El Cid's approach. With a sigh, the girl reached down and retrieved her pack. There was no more time to be still and feel the sun. It was time.

"Aiel, we're going to be late!"

The day was clear, bright with dying stars as the sun peaked over the horizon. And none of them thought to fear, caught up in youth and the innocence of those who have not suffered, because everything was bright and hopeful.

The dirt path that served as the road down from Tipa was quickly becoming crowded as villagers gravitated towards the wagon. Brand was already there, quiet and thoughtful, one hand resting on the hilt of his sword. Karasu perched on a nearby tree, legs waving underneath her. When Aiel and El Cid rounded the bend nods were exchanged all around.

Quiet descended on all those gathered, with all four present the village elder stepped forward, grave with the weight of their task.

His voice was dry, but clear, "Upon the roads, may all you who walk in the twilight, be marked by radiance…"

The four youths were to travel in a caravan to collect Myrrh- a precious ether upon which their very lives depended since the advent of the miasma. The poisonous humor was almost invisible, a mist of poison that choked the life from all it touched.

The beautiful crystal in the village square was the guardian of their village, and every man, woman, and child of Tipa owed their lives to its radiance. But the crystal's light could only persist for a year's time. Afterwards, its power would fade and Tipa would die.

That was why they were to set out- to procure precious Myrrh that would rekindle the crystal's light for another year.

This was a grave affair. There were conspicuous gaps amid the faces gathered to bid them farewell.

The previous caravan had disappeared; another group of kind-hearted travelers had retrieved their chalice and returned it in their stead, Sol Racht of the Alfitaria guard, and captain of their caravan. He had given his condolences, and offered to assist in any way he could. They would meet his caravan on the road, a day's march from Tipa, and from there, begin their journey.

With them went hope, and those left behind prayed that they might return with it in time.

_It was this day our lives changed forever._

_This is our record, of the adventures that befell us in the years of our wanderings- and what became of us. Our hopes, and our dreams. Remember us._


	2. Chapter 2, Road Belle

**Chapter 2 – Road Belle**

I was a bare twig, fourteen and inclined to a slight build, short for my age, knock-kneed and unremarkable. I had brown hair that I pulled back from my face and fastened low, in the typical manner of Clavat women.

As it happened, in the year of the first star I was selected, with others, to carry the chalice of Tipa, after the unfortunate loss of our caravan the previous year.

As mentioned, I hail from Tipa, where I was born and raised. It was a small hamlet on the southern cape; perched atop the cliffs and pressed in against the sea so that fierce waves break upon stone in a never-ending roar, and the gulls cry, mingling their voices in the wind.

The others of our band were Brand, son of Paul the smithy. El Cid, son of So Cid who was a merchant in Tipa, formerly removed from distant Alfitaria. And Karasu, daughter of Gila Mu and Leia the Clavat, who were tailors.

We were all young and untested, the previous caravan being slain to a man in some distant Northland. Thus it fell to us, untested youths, to carry the future of our village, and seek the Myrrh. Our first steps on the Road Belle were among the most difficult I have ever taken.

As keeper of the record of our travels; this record, I have decided, will be called the Crystal Chronicles. I am Aiel, daughter of Arion and Christie, apothecary and alchemist.

Across the bridge of River Belle, they crossed through arable lands, the outlying fields, passed meadows of new shoots that would likely be golden stalks by the time of their return; and then into the presence of trees and the absence of the sun. Birds in the branches sang and woodland animals chattered. A few early cicadas droned as the day began to warm.

Brand, as the tallest, with the greatest stride, and so- set his pace at the front of the caravan. El Cid rode in the wagon, directing the papaopamus's leads as it snorted and grunted, pulling the wagon. Aiel and Karasu walked together at the rear.

As often happens, the excitement and gravity of their departure was the first casualty, and expired long before they had passed the third mile out of Tipa village. Boredom seeped into its place. It did not help that the first day of travel was marked by a stillness; that reverent hush that one hears in wake of the bustle and sound one has always known- taken away and replaced by the breath of wind and the grind of the wagon's wheels and nothing else. And in the company of this numbing boredom, that Karasu blurted-

"What do you think these city-types will be like?" Her voice was bright; referring, presumably, to the Alfitaria caravan.

Aiel jumped a little at Karasu's abrupt inquiry, and squeaked. She was certain she squeaked a little. "A-ah, I wouldn't know…"

So when Aiel was confronted by very blue eyes bearing a demanding gaze, was at something of a loss. Admittedly, she didn't know Karasu well. That is not to say, she didn't know _of_ Karasu, not in a town as small as Tipa. They had simply never needed to speak previously. Her father was the tailor, and most residents of Tipa had come into contact with his daughter by proximity.

It happened that her father, Gila Mu, was a nomadic Selkie; one of the more barbaric tribes, nomadic traders and stockmen drifting from place to place. He had done so himself until he had been caught in Tipa, snared by a quiet local girl. The Selkie tailor and his Clavat wife were every bit the village oddity, and perhaps treated with an unfair distance as a result.

That reflected in their daughter, Karasu- who made it her life's mission to be noticed as much as possible. Aiel had always thought it a little odd that the daughter of a tailor would wear so… little… but refrained from commenting. Karasu had always bucked the mold, that much even Aiel knew.

Karasu was of an energetic sort, with the tendency to get into mischief. Though she often didn't get along with her family and occasionally stole. In person, however, Aiel found herself liking the infectious smile, sparkling eyes, and carefree attitude exuded by the taller girl. She hoped they would be friends.

"Well, y' went to school, didn't cha'?" Karasu pressed brow furrowing in a frown, "You'd know." she poked Aiel's shoulder with a touch of annoyance.

Aside from the Selkie's disregard for personal pace- this was basically true. Aiel's father was a scholar, and had traveled with caravans before on occasion. His studies had taken him far across the world, and as part of her preparations for their own journey he had given her and extensive array of scrolls and manuscripts, written by himself and a range of other notables, to study. Her itinerary dealt primarily in the routes and peoples they would likely encounter.

"It would not be prudent for me to speculate on things which I do not have firsthand knowledge." Aiel said, reciting the first maxim of her father's instruction, and her own apprenticeship.

"Huh?" Karasu leaned back, much to the other girl's relief.

"I've never been outside Tipa," Aiel explained, "I've-I've read about the world, the routes and the cities, but I've never been there. I don't know."

Karasu blew out her cheeks, "Yeah, Papa said he couldn't teach me like the trail would, or something." She pursed her lips, watching Brand's back as he walked ahead, "I'm just glad to be out of that hole."

Aiel took exception to the home she where had lived her whole life being called a 'hole'.

"I-I beg your pardon?"

Karasu laughed, "Don't take it personal, I jus' can't stand somewhere that quiet. M' jumping ship at the first town we cross." She stretched, apparently quite pleased with herself.

Aiel was stunned. For most villagers, it was a great honor to journey in the caravans- most never set foot outside their respective hometowns. But attachment to the traditional home of your ancestors was a powerful magnetism.

Maybe the wanderlust was a Selkie trait? Aiel was left to her musing as Karasu ran ahead. Clearly, there was little, if any, sense in her head at all.

There was something to be said for the mind numbing qualities of walking, the steady, repetitive cadence of putting one foot in front of another. Brand was thus well-aquatinted with the therapeutic clearing of thoughts, long hikes to carry charcoal for the forge having given him an appreciation ages ago. Be it an acre, a mile, or a league- every journey is but a collection of its steps.

He raised his eyes to the branches overhead, watched as a pair of squirrels played overhead. His thoughts returned to their current course. He was deeply uncertain in this venture. He knew why he had been chosen as one of the keepers to Tipa's crystal. Of his peers, he was eldest, and the strongest by far, hardened by long hours of work in the forge. Honesty demanded admittance- with the deaths of the previous caravan it was a necessary precaution.

But Brand had never had any desire to travel, and the sword strapped at his side- a parting gift from his father -felt heavy with the lives it carried. His first lesson in swordplay; almost a year ago today, a grim lecture in the nature of the sword, played out in his head again and again and again.

"Remember, my son, a blade in not a toy. It is a tool not to be taken lightly. That tool's purpose is to protect your life and the lives of those who depend upon you…"

He thought of the grim faces of the families of the pervious caravaners, the looks of resignation that had seen them off and the burden was great and he didn't want it.

Brand looked up as Karasu trotted up, an impish smile on her face. Brand glanced back at Aiel, still bringing up their rear, but now she appeared to be torn between amusement and dire outrage. He wondered what they had been talking about

Then he felt his face heat. What was she wearing? Clavats were a sensible people, with simple, functional dress. Lilties, who still considered themselves conquerors of the world, typically wore armor when on the road, as El Cid did. The less said about the Yukes the better, but Karasu dressed in the traditional manner of Selkie women- chiefly comprised of a close-fitting undergarment covered by various wispy silk scarves and furs. It left more skin bare than it covered and was only intended for a fight if one intended a distraction while escaping, though in that regard it might be effective indeed. And the way Karasu walked, it was clear she understood its effect… though instead of sultry, she only managed to look embarrassing. A girl pretending at being a woman.

It didn't make him any more comfortable with her though.

"Hey," Karasu opened with a sharp jab in the ribs- which flustered the boy further, most likely the desired effect, "I've been wonder'n, which one of us blokes is in charge out here?"

Brand blinked.

"Well, see, I was thinking if we're all gonna be out here for a month or more then we might as well pick one." She quipped.

Brand shook his head slowly, feet never faltering in their inevitable march, "Not me."

"Awww, why not?" He suspects that Karasu is more interested in eliciting a reaction then in the mechanics of his request. But he can't be certain; Karasu is hard to read that way. Even so, he scowled. _I don't want to be responsible for your life, and the lives of everyone here._ He thinks this.

He says, "I'm not a leader."

"That's dumb," Karasu pouted, and then suddenly brightened, "Oi! Let's take a vote!"

She jumped up on the wagon, nearly knocking El Cid from his seat. While the Lilty fumed at her she raised a hand, "All in favor of making Brand leader, say 'aye'! _Aye_!"

No one else spoke.

"Against? Say 'nay'!"

Silence on the trail. Karasu looked criminally smug.

"So, it's settled, Brand's th' leader!" Karasu chirped.

Then El Cid pushed her off the wagoner seat. Brand wondered if it was too late to send Karasu home, and if the other two would mind overmuch.

Of the four, only Aiel and El Cid were well aquatinted prior to their journey.

It was a little strange, to picture an irritable Lilty and the demur Clevat as friends. Cid and Aiel had known each other for as long as either could remember (though, in Aiel's case this was not strictly the truth- she could remember a heartbeat and warmth, and her mother's voice in the dark-before-everything. But she didn't count this important, and had never told anyone). Cid's clan were immigrants from the north, and had once been minor nobles, a fact he had always been proud of, even as a child. Most of the other children were intimidated; but not Aiel, who had driven him nigh unto madness with her questioning.

The two had been inseparable as children, and thus it had been natural that they be selected together. It was assuring that they would go into this together, and both knew that they could depend on the other to watch their back.

El Cid knew Brand as well, his family were all merchants, minor nobles immigrated from the north, and they had much business with each other. He even so far to count him as an acquaintance, with a haughty sniff.

Karasu, of course, was infamous.

So it happened as they rode into the Alfitarian camp, that they were tired, irritable, and feeling poorly prepared for their undertaking. And their journey had barely begun.

Sol Racht was a sturdy Lilty, compact and powerful, dressed from head to toe in brightly polished iron armor. Aiel liked him immediately; most Lilties were far too serious in her opinion, even El Cid. Sol was stern, but personable enough- even kindly to the tenderfoots. That night both caravans conversed over a pleasant fire, and discussed their course. Aiel ate apples, roasted on sticks over the flame, and couldn't remember anything so delicious in her life.

She was a little surprised, and very delighted, to find two Moogles accompanying with the Alfitarian caravan as well; Stilitzkin, and his son, Mog. Stiltzkin was a renowned traveler of many years on the trail, and he shared his vast experience freely with the tenderfoots in a small, piping voice. Mog, too, was gracious and polite.

Aiel had always wanted to meet a Moogle, and found them to be fascinating creatures. And they were adorable! Tiny round bodies with tiny limbs lost amid fluffy fur, wide ears framed their faces and red pompoms bobbed over their heads. Small wings on their backs allowed them to fly. She surreptitiously drew a quick sketch on her travel pad while they conversed with Karasu and Brand about the roads.

"…Oh, no I just travel a lot. Before I knew it, I'd learned all kinds of things!" Stiltzkin exclaimed, following a point Aiel had missed while engrossed in her pencil-work. "Kupo… Say, it's time my son saw some of the world, and found himself a name. And I'm embarking on a bit of a quest of my own. How would you feel about taking him along with you?"

Aiel gasped and dropped her pad, "We'd love too!" Mog didn't say anything, but given the speed at which his gaze snapped to his father, it seemed important. The sudden movement startled Karasu, who was holding him and stroking his fur.

"Why?" Brand wanted to know. El Cid looked a touch surly but nodded his agreement, he wanted to know too.

"Before any Moogle can lay claim to a true name, they must undertake a journey- how else can they find it, Kupo?" Stiltzkin winked. "He's old enough, you could grow together." And now Stiltzkin's voice grew light, "Don't worry, he won't be a burden. I'd know, I taught him everything I can. Kupo."

"I'd love to come, kupo!" The younger Moogle affirmed, "Really. If you'll take me, that is, kupo." Mog himself bobbed eagerly, and Aiel found herself falling rather severely in love with the fluff of cotton.

_Year 1, _

_entry one, Aiel_

_caravan of Tipa, on the road to Belle Downs_

_We made contact with the__ Alfitaria caravan__ three hours short of sunset. __Outfitted in iron armor and bright halberds, __they__ made quite an impression. I contrast them and our own comparatively makeshift equipment and find myself ill-prepared by comparison. Is this the world we are stepping out into? No wonder our past caravan did not return. I, for one, am quite grateful for their assistance._

_I spent the better part of an hour pouring over maps of the province, both ours and those of the Alfitarian caravan, consulting the location of every known and rumored Myrrh tree. I worry- the world seems so vast! How will we be able to find the Myrrh and return before the light fades? _

_Captain Sol Racht has advised us that they will head north, and can accompany us along the main road as far as River Belle Falls, there we hope to turn aside to find the Myrrh tree over the bank. Sol Racht cautioned us in this course, as venturing east brings danger of the goblins tribes, who have long inhabited the rocky downs- and the mountains beyond. _

_El Cid said: "Obtaining Myrrh quickly will be a great boon to moral-" or similar sentiments._

_Sol Racht himself is an impressive Lilty, bedecked in the armor of a full captain and bearer of the standard of Alfitaria. _

I've finally seen a Moogle! There were two traveling with the Alfitarian caravan, one Stiltzkin and his son, Mog. Mog has joined us, for the time being, as he is undertaking a quest to earn the right to an adult's name! I have read about these rights in Moogle society before, now we will be part of one! I feel honored- to be so suddenly involved in so many lives, both of our own village, and now those outside- It makes my head spin!

_El Cid got into a fight with Karasu at dinner, it nearly came to blows before both Brand and Captain Sol Racht intervened. I find myself apprehensive at the prospect of spending several weeks with such a loud pair. Brand seems more sedate in nature, thank the spirits!_

_Goblins rarely venture this far west- even so, as I go to bed, I know I will not sleep for dreams of the horrid little wrinkled things. Ick. I miss home already._

Their first night on the road, four children spent the night out under the stars, staring up into the sky and wondering what the upcoming days would hold, as the reality of the situation sank in.


	3. Chapter 3, Goblins

**Chapter 3 – Goblins**

The chalice was the most important part of every caravan in those days, and every Myrrh caravan carried a chalice. The chalice was a magical relic crafted vaguely along the lines of a large cup, sculpted by arcane arts and imbued with blessings of protection to its keepers. This cup served to contain the caravan's precious ether during their intermediary journey. The appearance and make of every chalice varied- pertaining to its maker, history, and origins, but some features were nearly universal- fixed to the lip of every chalice was a shard of its mother crystal that assisted in drawing out the precious Myrrh and a beacon that extended protection across the gulf of the trail from the miasma.

The day dawned clear and warm, and as the sun rose El Cid studied the chalice of Tipa. It was hard to imagine its use just by looking at it, but his hands tingled wherever they brushed the pale metal. This was the thing they were tasked with, and he would die before he dishonored his ancestors, his village, himself, and the trust placed upon him. He wore the armor of his house, and carried his father's great sweeping spear. He was a Lilty, and of noble birth, _his_ caravan would succeed.

Both camps were packed and ready to depart before the sun had been up an hour. Sol Racht and Aiel coordinated maps and reckoned travel time for a handful of minutes before they were once again under way. The impression from the evening before was heightened in the morning as the Lilties broke camp; stowing gear, fixing packs, tightening straps, polishing weapons, and making general preparations with speed. Alfitaria's caravan was a squad of picked soldiers that moved with regimented precision that left the Tipa-landers an undisciplined rabble in comparison.

Sol Racht struck up a conversation with El Cid as they walked. The younger Lilty was in awe of the older adventurer. Every word he spoke was that of a man who had survived it all and planned to do it again. A warrior worthy of respect, El Cid approved of Sol Racht very much. The older Lilty was quite capable and the discipline of his caravan reflected well on bright Alfitaria and Lilties everywhere.

El Cid was eager to speak with another of his people after living most of his life in Tipa- which was populated predominantly by Clavats, and over the course of the first rest they talked of many things, but eventually the topic wound around to some news that held interest to them both.

Sol was relating a bit of wisdom to the younger Lilty, "All journeys have an end, even life. The destination is the same, the journey is what sets us apart." El Cid was, admittedly, not listening with both ears at that moment, but what Sol Racht said next arrested his attention in full, "Have you heard of the Black Knight?"

"I have not." El Cid admitted, and an unfamiliar tingle ran up his spine- something at the mention of the title…

"I hear he is journeying to master the blade. Few these days ever set out to better themselves. You would do well to master something before your journey ends."

Sol's enthusiasm was contagious. El Cid was a little surprised as Sol related news of the Black Knight's travels. Despite how the miasma isolated the provinces and towns from each other word of the Black Knight seemed to be found everywhere, and everywhere his name was whispered with reverence. El Cid listened with rapt attention as Sol listed the names of faraway places where the Black Knight had been seen, and the great deeds he had done.

About midday the caravans parted, Alfitaria on to the north and Tipa to the east. Children pretending to be adults, and they didn't know they were traveling towards death, or taking the first step towards destiny.

El Cid was walking out front when it happened, beside Brand as Aiel took the reins and chatted with Mog. It is this fact that likely saved their lives, as suddenly, with no warning whatsoever, a rock bigger than his fist clattered against the side of the wagon, missing Aiel's head by inches. Badly aimed or not, the rock was immediately followed by eight large goblins, whooping and carrying long, rusty knives. All four of the caravaners were caught flatfooted, scrambling for weapons as the first came within arms reach and Brand looked up to see his first goblin.

The goblin was wrinkled and hairless, with a quivering snout easily a foot long and long twitching ears. Its skin was blotchy and purpled, and it stepped with long bowlegged strides, cackling and yammering. It's little red eyes glared at them with a bizarre hunger, a rabid look that still managed to convey a malignant intelligence.

The instinctive fear of the mad seized them as it saw them, they froze. It was a miracle that self preservation galvanized them to action.

Brand moved to block it's way, stepping between the creature and the wagon, Aiel, Mog, and Karasu. He wasn't aware of the sword in his hands or the shield on his arm. The goblin stepped forward and raised it's blade over it's head.

"Get behind me!" Brand shouted, though he wasn't exactly sure what he would do once they complied.

Then he was shoved aside as El Cid leaped by, spear raised. One swipe caught the goblin under the arm, and the blade fell to the side harmlessly. A second swipe sent the creature tumbling back into another as El Cid roared and charged a third. Brand stood, stunned, and forgot that he was till very much in danger.

Two goblins converged on him while the rest charged the wagon. He caught a glimpse of Aiel rising to stand on the seat before his vision was obscured by yet another gibbering goblin. Everything seemed to be moving far too slowly, he felt disconnected from his body. He wondered if he was asleep.

Somehow he started waving his sword, but felt, absurdly, he was probably as much a danger to himself as his opponent. The goblin leaped back, but his fellow stabbed out- he felt the rusty metal as it bit into his side and he fell backwards. The monster licked it's knife and chortled in glee-

Just in time to be caught up in a surge of white light that left spots dancing behind his eyes. When he could see again the goblins were gone, a fine dusting of hot ashes and blackened metal where they had stood. On the wagon Aiel lowered her hands and collapsed onto the seat, completely spent. Mog hovered a moment longer before plopping down on her head with a quiet 'kupo!'

The silence in wake of the attack left Brand feeling more foolish and useless than he could ever remember being in his life. Intellectually, Brand knew that Aiel, as the daughter of an alchemist, was likely trained in magic from a very young age, but seeing the results still left him shaken and awed. He had the presence of mind to check his wounded flank, but the cut wasn't deep. It would need to be cleaned but probably wasn't life-threatening. He had the feeling of the rat's tail, after escaping the cook's knife.

"Are they gone?" Karasu's voice came from under the wagon. Even Karasu had kept most of her wits about her. As he turned he caught sight of El Cid standing over two bodies. The Lilty looked pensive and a little ill. His characteristic ruddy complexion faded, somewhat…

"Brand, you're bleeding." He looked up to find Aiel looking right at him. El Cid also looked up, but immediately shook his head and closed his eyes, swaying dangerously.

Aiel stepped down from the wagon slowly, but with moving with increasing surety as she recovered from whatever spell she'd used. Mog remained perched on her head, though, Aiel didn't seem to mind.

"Here, this is a healing spell I learned to prevent tetanus." Aiel knelt down- right there in the ashes of the goblins -and began to probe the wound as her hands glowed. The pain faded and Brand felt better almost immediately.

"We can't have you getting lockjaw and dying, right?"

He looked up to find her looking at him and smiling. Brand nodded slowly, not trusting himself to speak. Now that the adrenaline was wearing off he was feeling rather ill himself. Aiel worked quickly, and in only a few minutes the wound was closed, though she was looking rather pale at that point, and remained sitting on the ground rather then stand. She looked faint, and was taking deep, even breaths. Somehow that irritated Brand. She shouldn't be making such an effort on him.

He'd just stood and flailed and gotten cut.

El Cid was a little pale, looking down at the blood coating his spear. Very deliberately he turned away and stepped off the road- and was quietly sick in the ditch. That nearly broke Brand, and he struggled to choke back the rising gorge. He managed to hold it down, but just barely.

Karasu crawled out from under the wagon. She had a black eye and a nasty cut on her arm, and _very_ badly lacerated knuckles, but otherwise seemed unharmed and waved away Aiel's offered healing. Karasu hadn't been armed, Brand remembered. The knuckles were probably from punching goblins before she threw herself under the wagon to escape their knives. As he watched she reached into the wagonbed, rummaged a moment, then withdrew her hand, this time, clutching the metal-headed staff that constituted a Selkie's traditional trail weapon. She spun it experimentally, feeling out it's weight in her injured arm. "Where now?" she drawled.

"What?" Aiel managed.

El Cid, returning and wiping his mouth, supplied the answer, "There will be more vermin. Goblins move in hordes. My family's records of the great wars never place them at less than thirty to a foraging pack." He said, compulsively wiping his spear on the grass over and over again. Apparently realizing what he was doing, he pointedly lifted his spear and rested the haft on the earth.

He felt faulted somehow. Not by the Lilty, but by the universe. Was he the most useless one here? His scowl deepened as he looked at Mog and Aiel, both of whom appeared weak enough a stiff breeze might knock over, to El Cid, who was still quite pale, to Karasu with her injuries.

He felt the weight again, and the burden of the three- four now. They could work back to the road from here, it was only a few miles, and the roads were well-patrolled. Goblins wouldn't follow them there. His jaw flexed grimly, and he pushed himself back to his feet.

"That's right! Lets up an' at 'em!" Karasu quipped, a bright smile splitting her face from ear to ear. She swung her staff pointedly and nearly clipped Brand.

"We head back to the road." He said.

There followed an awkward silence.

"But… You're our fearless leader." Karasu said in disbelief. Forgetting, perhaps, that she had bestowed the title, and that did not necessarily make it true.

Then El Cid kicked out one of his legs. Startled, Brand fell to one knee and the Lilty grabbed him by the shirt, now that it was within reach. Brand was shocked by the amount of strength exerted by that small body. Lilties might look diminutive, but there was a reason they were considered a people of warriors.

The look in his eyes was very plain.

There were any number of reasons not to. Good and valid. For both his and their sakes. It wasn't the wisest course of action, in fact, it was quite foolish. But they were young enough not to know this. When El Cid declares, loudly, that he will go on to collect the Myrrh without them, Brand relents.

Somehow, he is still the leader.

They left the wagon well hidden, the papaopamus with it – the beast had a tiny chip of crystal sown under it's skin to protect it from miasma in the event they needed to leave it behind in just such a situation. El Cid, with the advantage of his long spear, led out in front, Brand right behind him. Aiel was in the middle, with Mog, who carried the chalice. They were the group's mages and would provide magical support. That left Karasu in the rear- ideal in the event of ambush, as she was the quickest.

They found evidence of goblins quickly, muddied tracks and the bloodied carcass of some animal, mauled beyond recognition.

They were debating following the tracks to locate the goblin camp, or heading straight for the Myrrh tree. Mog offered to fly as high as he could to get the lay of the land and they consented.

No sooner had he cleared the treetops, then he darted back, "They're all around us! Surrounded! Every side!" He squeaked, almost in a panic. Brand called for them to fall back. No sooner had they done so, then a large purple head emerged from the undergrowth. A moment of silence passed, large eyes blinking uncomprehendingly at the Tipalanders.

Then everything was confusion and noise.

What Karasu carried was not, strictly speaking, a staff. The traditional weapon of her people was a long heavy-headed club inscribed with rues of war magic, strength, and agility to the wielder. They were commonly called 'shots' or 'rackets', because they were used to extract and contain the energies of the holder and then direct that aura as a weapon with a deft flick of the wrist.

Like the others of their little group, she had prepared for their journey, was instructed by the village elder in magic. Trained with her esoteric weapon for months. Learned to read a map. Use a compass. Treat injuries. And any number of a host of other skills that any traveler would need. She had not by any means relished the experience however, as she much preferred to gossip, play games with loaded dice, and sneak about looking for sweet pies to steal. All of those said activities were diverting and required minimal effort. And it wasn't as if there was a reputation to tarnish.

She had never anticipated the journey with the same reverie the others had- she had chosen to see it as merely as a means of escape. In essence, though she had made the preparations, her heart had not been in it.

Thus, she had never mastered the art of manipulating her aura the way her father wished. The knowledge of that lack in preparation was a clammy chill on her palms; the weight in her hands felt very heavy indeed. She hadn't fought in the initial skirmish actually, but had leaped under the wagon to save her life- she had no real desire to fight goblins.

The first goblin was slow and stupid, met with the united front of the Tipa caravan it stood and whooped, only to be met by El Cid's steel, its call cut off. A moment's victory.

However, that call had alerted others, and they came, crowing and cheering in gravely voices. They found the3mselves at a disadvantage, and the five fell back to a small hill, and watched as the goblins came, a mindless horde of hunger. The initial number was nine, those most immediate to the outcry. But even as they charged closer she could see movement in the trees beyond.

Aiel and Mog centered themselves, and together unleashed a bout of fire into their midst. One fell, dead at once, three others screamed as they tried to put out the enchanted flames, set alight in red and orange.

Karasu stood as her knees knocked together and cold sweat ran down her face in rivers.

The five remaining were met by Brand and El Cid. Five on two, and Karasu froze.

There was confusion of metal and sounds of metal beating on metal. Then El Cid stumbled back, clutching his arm. Brand followed a moment later. The rabid fury had leant the caravan a moment's advantage, and the melee had gone badly for the monsters. All but one of the goblins were down, dead or nearly so, and the last was limping back towards the trees and whimpering. More goblins poured from the forest. There had to be a dozen.

There was a blinding flash as Aiel and Mog unleashed another wave of magic upon the mob, but there were too many for them to make any kind of headway before the remainder were upon them. There was blood on every side- El Cid was flailing with his spear and the enemy was so packed that he drew blood with every stroke, whether he was aiming for this goblin or that. Brand darted in to cut one down that was coming at him from the flank, and El Cid almost took his head off by mishap. Then they were right in the thick of it. Karasu was distantly aware that they were being edged off the hillock, but didn't know what to do.

Swear to Ashura, Aegis, Ultima; she hadn't signed up for this!

She had Aiel in one hand, her racket in the other. The Clavat girl was panting and pale, lips and face bloodless, and probably couldn't set a candle alight at the moment, let alone a goblin. There were still six remaining, maddened creatures heedless of their losses, or perhaps only the more bloodthirsty for it. Both El Cid and Brand were so exhausted they could barely lift their blades. They were caught in sudden confusion, metal and movement, and shouting on every side.

They were on them all at once, and one of them, a horrid, huge brute, reared up, ready to crush her. Karasu's mind was suddenly clear as ice water, and she felt her aura condense and flow down her racket, form a fist-sized clump of her very soul. She extended her arm and let it go in a picture-perfect shot- exactly as Papa had shown her. The goblin pitched over backwards and lay still.

The confusion was a mass of movement and sound- then it was silent once more. Karasu was distantly aware of her arms swinging vigorously, of her racket hitting, jarring blows that deadened her arms up to the elbows.

Then it was over. There was a curious sort of stillness, in wake of mortal struggle. Karasu stood, trembling just so for a long moment before pitching forward and retching loudly.


	4. Chapter 4, Upon the Banks Belle

A/N:

In case one hasn't realized it yet; this will not, strictly speaking, follow the in-game story line. This is for a number of reasons, some of which I'm sure you will guess or otherwise deduce in some manner. Others you'll just have to take in stride.

Peace, out.

_Many things happened that year- that glorious, first year of our journeying -and though some faded with time, the five of us, trudging down the road, exhausted, barely able to stand, was one of the most enduring. _

_Somehow, looking back, everything was different. After then, we were no longer children. We were different after that day. It was difficult to define why, but we knew it to be so. And years later we could still look back and remember that was when we changed. We had bled together, and come out alive. _

_Everything afterwards was from a different vantage point. A new angle- and the world looked so much the larger, grander for it. We were no longer just traveling companions, no longer were we just thrown into this mix. We were companions, friends, **comrades**._

_And with that first drop of Myrrh, we thought the skies an endless path leading to the future, bright and just beyond our grasp._

_We did not yet know sorrow._

Excerpt from Tipa caravan records, Third entry, undated.

**Chapter 4 – Upon the Banks Belle**

They met up with Sol Racht two days later; he had delayed an entire day and was considering setting out in search of them. Credit for their rescue belonged to Mog, who flew ahead once his companions were no longer able to move, and alerted the Alfitarians of their predicament. And though the ordeal was a day behind them they had to rest a full day before they could travel once more.

With their escape Sol Racht had allowed them a few minutes of giddy celebration as their injuries were examined by the Alfitarian's physician before he told them, with grim certainty, that they had been very lucky and nothing more. They were quite fortunate- and foolish. Tenderfoots had no business tempting fate when they knew Goblins were prowling near.

That night, under the stars, we lay looking up at the sky, and listened to the crackle of the fire.

It was quiet, and though they were still stiff and tired sleep seemed elusive. There was an expectant energy in the air- some strange anticipation they all felt.

Sometime late in the night, El Cid once reckoned it about one in the morning- Aiel disagreed, she said it was an hour earlier or more -lights began to appear far to the northwest. Sol said they were likely far away and very high up, judging from how indistinct they appeared. This continued for the better space of an hour. At that time brilliant light stabbed out across the sky. Then again, and a third time. Before they could stand or speak the entire sky was alight, filled with colors and flashes of brilliance. Such fire didn't seem possible, like young suns, bright and brief.

Karasu asked Aiel if this was the ghost-lights she had heard of over the northern mountains. But Aiel shook her head; they were rarely seen in Veo Lu, let alone as far south as Tipa. She had never seen them, but this had to be something else.

This otherworldly lightening.

The lights continued far into the night, and sometime close to morning they began to slacken. But instead of stars, a chilling darkness settled in it's place. The light flickered bravely, but on all sides dark pressed in, until there was no light and no stars in the sky. Event the moon was not to be seen.

The dark loomed overhead until it seemed dawn would be swallowed up in it forever- then the sun rose in its course and the shadows fled. The unaccountable dread that had accompanied the dark faded like a dream, leaving a vague sense of ill-ease in its wake; the distant sensation that something was unaccountably wrong. It had seemed- looking into the endless dark, that every though that was, or ever had been, or ever would be, was drained away, leaving one empty.

It would be months before talk of the light had made the full circuit of the islands and cities and found itself spoken by every tongue until the novelty had worn out and new things arrested the greater attention. What happened was largely forgotten in wake of what people _thought_ had happened. However, several events surrounding the celestial anomaly were in later histories found to be of some significance, it is important to recall them clearly in light of the greater proceedings- and what came of them.

Remember this. It will be important to recall later.

The night passed into day and dawned bright, clear, with no indication whatsoever that the visions of the night before had been anything but an unsettling dream. The memory remained indistinct- but a brooding, pensive silence reined over the camp on through breakfast.

Today they would have much further to go, but it was fortunately all established road and would require little traipsing about in the hills. Today would be, hopefully, less eventful than the debacle at the river. Rain fell, briefly, about a half hour after breakfast. It lasted less than an hour, and wasn't very heavy at all, but was sufficient to render the roads suitably mucky. It was just the right degree of saturation to render the mud in big, sticky clumps that collected around their ankles with every step. Luckily, the path began to grow rockier as they trudged, higher and higher as the path rose. Soon the mud was left behind in favor of rock on all sides and a steady, burning climb.

The sun was warm and had them sweating and steaming in their soaked clothing. Three hours later, they met a crossroads. Aiel took the opportunity to sit down on a nearby conveniently low rock while El Cid, Brand, and Sol held a discussion. She was a short distance away, and their voices muted with the distance- she didn't have to bear the shouting so much. She took off her gloves and untied her hair so that she could feel the breeze, kicked her legs lightly in the air. It was pleasant, actually, and she got a good look at the land.

The pass they would take lay through a valley- what had once been a valley. Through this they needed to pass to reach the Iron Downs- a long string of hills jutting out from the mountains, once known for its vast mines. There was Myrrh to be found there, and they would be able to resupply at Marr's pass as needed.

East, the road was an old war-path that eventually led on to the shadows of Goblin Wall, a great fortress-city deep in the mountains and sanctuary to countless goblins and other dark things. It was dry and obviously long unused, flanked by steep rock and scraggly underbrush. North, it turned down into a sickly and foreboding copse of trees that swirled faintly with torrents of miasma.

From that angle, comparing the two, the east road looked decidedly more appealing. But they were headed north, and along that road lay the miasma stream- a current of pure poison and the taste of fear. She could feel a faint, chill draft where she sat, the hairs on the back of her neck stood up and she shivered.

They would need to pass through this or risk the eastern road to Goblin Wall.

Aiel bit her lip as she listened to Sol and Brand discuss the necessary preparations to entering the stream. After the near-miss on River Belle, she doubted any amount of gil in the world could convince her of that path. She shivered. No, she reconsidered, north was looking quite hopeful indeed.

"You're crazy. The lot of you."

The voice was sudden and unfamiliar, laced with sarcasm and laconic disdain.

She looked up to find a boy gazing down at them from a higher vantage point atop a boulder, reclining in a haphazard sprawl. He was nearly bare from the waist up, quite rugged looking, and had a definite Selkic look about him. A few lines of dark makeup crisscrossed his pale chest. A feather stuck straight up from his… Strangely, his hair was very vibrant red, a rare color among Selkies. Aiel was riveted; maybe he was a cousin of Karasu's?

The boy saw her staring and sneered- and Aiel decided she didn't like him very much.

"Caravaners… Take one step out of the village and they fancy themselves trail-folk. What's a farming Clavat doing out here?" he looked her up and down. Aiel felt immediately very small and city-born. She was aware of how very sore she still was- and likely would still be through the entirety of their traveling – sore and awkward compared the ease of the others. Brand never had physical difficulties, as the blacksmith's son he was very strong. Karasu couldn't be tied down to follow her family's profession- she wouldn't let herself. And El Cid was a Lilty, and thus naturally very physically inclined, in addition to rigorous training regimes.

Aiel, as the eldest child of the village alchemist, was expected to keep the family trade alive. That meant long hours of study in candlelight that left her eyes smarting, and a body that was weak in comparison. The Selkie boy felt her shrink in on herself and brightened, like a predator sensing easy prey.

He leaned out a bit and hopped down from his resident boulder. He landed almost silently, legs coiling under him to absorb the impact. Aiel stood up.

The boy took a step towards her. Aiel stepped back. Adrenaline was throbbing in her veins and somehow she couldn't shake the feeling of the goblins- there all around them- closing in- dozensanddozensanddozens-

She blinked as he raised her hand and turned it to see the palm, "... So soft, no calluses at all... Haven't you ever worked a day in your life? You won't last a week."

Aiel blushed fiercely, and jerked her hand from his grip. With quick, stilted motions she donned her gloves, never did her gaze move from its place atop her shoes. Burning with shame, she turned. However, when the Selkie boy reached out and brushed her cheek with one hand, she burned with a very different emotion.

He chuckled a little, and she felt her face might catch fire when someone stepped to her side, pushing in between so the Selkie was forced to step back. He broke eye contact with the redheaded Selkie and turned to find Brand at her side, with a face sour enough to curdle new milk.

"What do you want?" he asked, and there was no doubt he expected an answer.

The Selkie gave a cocky grin, "Easy, Tipa-lander. I'm just checking out the fresh meat."

Brand's eyes narrowed, "How did you know where we come from?"

"I didn't."

Brand looked at the Selkie a long moment, and then turned to Aiel. "Come on," he moved on back towards the others, who were rummaging about in the wagons. They would eat the midday meal before entering the stream.

Brand fixed the Selkie with one last look.

"Brand," He said, "Don't bother my caravan."

"Bal Dat," the boy replied sourly, "You'll be seeing me again."

Karasu stole El Cid's sour melon pastery.

It happened as they were eating and trying to eat the midday meal. It was the inevitable dilemma of first-time caravaners faced with their first crossing. No-one wanted to sit with the fingers of ghostly wind at their backs, but none wanted to be caught outright watching the distant shadows on the road. This left them all sitting opposite, glancing occasionally at the looming trees without leaves, and mist surrounding the road.

But some deal with stress differently than others. Thus, as El Cid casually glanced over at the road, the pastry disappeared en-route to his moth. He bit air twice, looking for it, before turning to find Karasu sniffing the pilfered sweet lustfully. El Cid's eyebrow began to twitch. El Cid was not amused. He became less even less amused, when Karasu took a big bite.

"Mmmm! This is really good!"

This demanded some manner of retribution, and El Cid raised his spear to kill Karasu, as was just. Their scuffle carried on in the background as Aiel stroked Mog absently, a little lost in the bustle of the Alfitarian caravan and the bickering of her own. The little Moogle was purring, and the sound managed to dispel some of the unease that plagued her.

"Kupo... You're upset."

Aiel glanced down at the little Moogle in surprise, then sighed, "You can tell?"

"There's no need to tug my fur so hard..."

"Sorry..." Aiel moderated her petting, "I don't like traveling..."

"That's not all, though, Kupo?"

Aiel nodded, "I..." She grasped for the right words, "I don't belong here, I'm weaker than all of them."

"Kupo," Mog looked up at her, "Why do you say that?"

"El Cid and Brand are strong and Karasu is smart and thinks well on her feet." she sighed, "I'm just the alchemist's daughter."

"Kupo?"

"I'm not used to all of this..." Aiel turned slightly. Brand sat watching as Karasu throttled El Cid. He was making sure they didn't accidently kill each other. "I'm not tough or strong, I don't think well on my feet." She lowered her gaze, "I don't belong here."

"Kupo..." Aiel looked up to find Stiltzkin hovering just over her shoulder, "I seem to remember Sol Racht commending your map reading the other day, he doesn't think you're useless."

"Yes, but-"

"I'm not as strong, or smart, or well-traveled as my older brothers." Stiltzkin continued, pretending not to hear and because she had never heard of Moogle families, Aiel went quiet immediately, listening to every word. "Everyone is little once, one day you'll be older and there will be others on the trail that look up to you. Mog will depend on you to try your very best. You can't go through life thinking of everything you are not, you won't get anything done."

Aiel nodded, quiet. Mog squirmed out from under her hand and flapped up into the air until he hovered at eye-level with, "I believe in you, Aiel! Kupo!" the Moogle chirped.

"Thanks."

They packed up and made ready to set out. Karasu had a fresh black eye and El Cid was limping a bit, but they looked like they'd live. Aiel was looking a little steadier, and Mog had reclaimed his perch on her head. Brand tightened his straps once more; he could hear Sol rallying the Alfitarians into their disciplined phalanx. He readied himself to follow them in, he turned and swept Tipa's caravan with one last look.

Brand did a double-take.

The Selkie looked like she hadn't learned her lesson at all. In fact, at that moment Karasu was doing cartwheels around El Cid, who was turning redder and redder and looked liable to explode at any moment. Brand shook his head, hitched the pack further up on his shoulders, and wondered at Karasu's antics.

But there was no time for easy humor. Ahead lay the miasma stream.


	5. Chapter 5, The Iron Downs Par 1, Marr

A/N I've gone back and changed the names to better fit the FF paragram. Enjoy.

**Chapter 5 – The Iron Downs, Part 1 **

**(Marr)**

Ever since the advent of miasma, it was common knowledge that the poisonous substance was heavy and thus tended to sink into valleys and dells. There it was densest and most potent. It had been that way since the first records of miasma, so long ago they nearly escaped written memory. In the earliest records, one could escape the deadly fumes by running uphill; the crystals were not the sole haven in the world. That was before the mists had truly taken hold- back when they had not flooded the entirety of the land and travel was still possible, if you knew how to go about it.

Over time; and as the steady creep of miasma encroached more and more, it took to moving as if it possessed a mind and will of its own. Like the wind and ocean, the miasma was bound by currents and streams and patterns of nature—but they moved without the governing of the moon and sun, and where the miasma was truly strong, it became a world unto itself. This was a kind of river, and as Aiel watched the others tie down loose equipment and clothing, she could feel the fringe of its current brushing her, mussing her hair. Swords were loosed in their sheaths and there was definite tension in the air.

This was the miasma stream.

The shift in the land was not that from mountain to valley; or rather, it was, but there was another element, subtler, eerier. The grass stopped bending in the wind, and it was the wrong color. The trees were bare of any leaves. No sounds of animals, none of the usual voices in the forest were to be heard. A mile under the branches and there was no grass at all. Just bare stone and the naked trees, the miasma was so thick the light took on a strange ambience- like thick fog, but… not.

The groan of unearthly winds, moaning in the branches of trees long turned to stone, scattering sand and dust on stone. The path wound down amid standing trunks blackened by venomous wind. And everywhere was silent but for the voice of gusts; pulling at their clothing, whipping their hair about their faces so they had to squint.

As they walked, Aiel would notice odd lumps on the side of the road, things she first took for stones, or other innocuous things. Then she caught sight of an upright sword, point embedded in the earth alongside a small mound of rusted chain mail and a pit helmet. A dozen yards further they encountered another. The road itself was well warded by seals and potent enchantments, no monster could set foot on it, but the sight of these grim memorials was enough to make her numb with fear.

Here they drew close. As the poison eddied and lapped about the fringes of its shroud, the pressure grew so great that the threshold adopted an appearance of spun glass and pearl, mutable and indistinct as water. It gave the impression they were submerged. Aiel had the unshakeable impression that should she stick her hand through the threshold, the limb would wither and die in moments.

"Miasma streams… it gives me the spooks, Kupo."

Aiel turned to see Mog hovering between her and the wagon, long ears twitching with agitation.

He looked positively adorable.

She didn't say that. What she did say was, "I thought Moogles were immune to the miasma."

Mog squeaked, "Um… er, not at all. Moogles aren't affected by Miasma. But…"

Aiel could only nod. The wind howled about them, shivering her to the very bone.

"It sounds… it sounds like laughing."

It did indeed, perhaps the blustering gusts amid the dry, dead branches were the cause. Maybe it was the creaking of ancient wood-turned-stone. Or perhaps there were some fiends, monsters amid the shadows over watching the protected highway that were frustrated by the sight of prey, so close, denied them. Whatever the reason, she felt certain she caught insane laughter, just out of earshot.

It grew only worse.

The howl of unearthly winds, moaning in the branches of trees long turned to stone, turned their skin to ice, and had their hair standing on end. The path wound down amid standing trunks blackened by the venomous wind and everywhere was silence but for the jealous voices in the trees.

They passed like silent ghosts, white-lipped and anxious, tension discernable even among the Alfitarians. Under the stone branches and dark overhanging clouds, fingers of wind threatening to pluck them up and throw them off into the abyss. El Cid brought up the rear, stealing nervous glances over his shoulder when he thought no one was watching.

He wasn't the only one.

A drowning man taking a lungful of life-giving air could understand their gratitude when they emerged on the other side to find sunlight and green life. Relief was palpable from all of them, even Sol Racht himself sagged a bit as the tension left his shoulders. The air was pure and clean, and the wind on their faces felt friendly and warm.

They left the fear and madness behind, walking quickly, not looking back. It was good to feel the sun!

A mile or more out of the smog they halted once more. The sun was beginning to sink towards the horizon. They set up camp within the shelter of two large boulders, pitching their tents against the wind. The evening meal was simple, but there were no complaints in either camp. Spirits were unaccountably light as the first watch began.

There was the added excitement that they would soon reach the town of Marr, an event that would mark the first time any of them, except perhaps El Cid, had ever traveled to another village outside Tipa.

(Though, some of the Alfitarians, particularly the lieutenant, Alan Gyle, annoyed Karasu with an impressive list of the places they had visited, and the things they had seen.)

It would mark the first full week of their journey, a foreboding and exhilarating marker for the children.

It was also where Sol and his caravan would leave them.

"What?"

Karasu was livid.

They were standing in a cobbled marketplace, surrounded on every side by stalls and merchants with their wares.

It had once been the seat of a great empire's conquest, a meeting of roads on which armies marched. Now, it was but a small town at the crossroads. Marr was still famed for its metalwork, still frequented by those seeking for smithy lore, but it was just a pale remnant of greater glories gone by. The smoke of the forges and hot iron still lent a sharp scent to the air, but this was a town past its golden age.

The air carried quite a chill to Aiel, a native of the coasts her whole life. She shivered a bit, and watched unhappily as Karasu flailed about. Brand and Sol Racht stood a pace off, conferring quietly. El Cid seemed largely indifferent, instead engrossed in the wares of an energetic merchant and Aiel wondered, despondently, if there was a single one of their number with any sense of prudence in this.

Mog, asleep on her head, was the only one who might.

Yes, she understood the Alfitarian guard couldn't accompany them every step of the journey, accompanying them thusfar was extremely generous. But knowing they were there made her feel so much better, so much safer.

But the fact was the Alfitarians already had sufficient Myrrh, they _needed_ to return to the capital. Similarly, the Tipa-landers needed to stand under their strength. It was not Sol Racht's duty to carry the chalice for Tipa, it was their own. In short, she understood, but _oh_, did she hate to see them go.

And so she understood Karasu's minor hysterics; even if she was making an awful scene.

"Karasu, that's enough." Brand snapped curtly, bowing once more to Sol, before turning away. They were coming over now, Karasu still glaring a bit. Aiel bowed quickly in the direction of the Alfitarians, and Sol lifted a hand. Then the Alfitarians were moving on once more, up the north road.

Once they were out of sight Karasu shot Brand a venomous look, El Cid remained aloof, idly watching and drumming his fingers on the haft of his spear, slung over his shoulders.

They were all going to die. Aiel massaged her temples.

(A nonsensical thought intruded; did any of us remember to pack an extra compass? There were so many things they would need to be mindful of, now that their sister caravan was no longer with them.)

_Oh_, but she hated this wind…

"Stop that chattering." A warm, heavy cape draped over her shoulders. Brand brusquely tied it off and fastened it. It was too long; she had to pick it up to keep it from dragging, but didn't mind. Her shivers subsided, Brand's lingering warmth, coupled with a toasty Mog hat made for a lot of wonderful heat.

"… lets go stand by the fire," he continued, indicating a large brazier set up by one wall, a merry flame dancing for the small crowd already standing about it, warming their hands.

Karasu immediately zeroed in on the light, still grumbling but sated a bit by the distraction. Tipa's caravan gathered with the town guard to warm themselves, and plan their next move.

They didn't have enough money to stay at an inn, what gil they had would be needed strictly for supplies. That much was clear.

Unfortunately, at the very moment Brand said that he felt a sharp tug at his pack and the frantic scrabbling of running feet. He turned, already the culprit, a shortish person of indeterminate gender, was vanishing down the street. His hand went to his belt, but he knew the purse was gone, along with all their precious coin.

"Hey!" Brand barked.

"Stop, thief!"

The Tipa caravan spun as one body, and there was a momentary entanglement of flailing and cursing limbs as they caught on the nearest individuals who happened to be in the way. Karasu happened free of the snarl-up first, and dashed off, closely followed by her compatriots.

They did not notice the keen interest in one set of watching eyes as they gave chase.

Karasu was, and always had been, the swiftest of the Tipa caravan, always quick on her feet and deft in a crowd. She wove through the streets, keeping the distant blur of brown and turquoise in her sight. But even with her speed, and quick action, the thief stayed infuriatingly far ahead. Soon the rest of the caravan was far behind.

Both the thief and her pursuer ducked into an alleyway. When she landed the flying tackled, tackled the runner's legs out from under her, it was just the two of them.

There was a brief tussle before the both of them separated, panting slightly. Karasu blinked.

The Selkie woman standing across from her blinked back. Maybe four years older than she was. Her face was seasoned by winters on the trail and hard living, with thin but well-proportioned features.

"You're a- a- Selkie!" Karasu gaped, "Seal clan?"

The woman gave her a long stare. "No… Shark eye. And You?"

"Seal, coast dog, born and bred." Karasu replied cheerily.

This was wonderful! She was finally meeting another Selkie! Another Selkie woman! She could find out how the clans lived, hear real stories of the trails and the old legends. They would be like sisters, and share all their secrets and gossip incessantly and-

The subject of her fantasy shifted a bit uncomfortably, the leather purse still grasped in one hand.

Karasu was reminded suddenly of her reason for chasing

"L-Listen here." Karasu said, firmly, she hoped, "There's nothing wrong with a Selkie making an honest day's thieving, but that coin you have is all we've got. Could you find someone richer to steal from?"

"No way!" the other girl retorted, "this is my gold, go get your own!"

The two stared at each other, both glaring vehemently.

Any fight or further chase, however, was forestalled by a cheery, lilting, slyly slanted voice- clearly very amused, spoken from just beyond Karasu's left shoulder. "Oh, my, what have we here?" She jumped, squeaked, and spun, trying to keep the woman and this new threat both under eye.

One look at the newcomer and he had her full attention.

The first impression was, immediately, that he was not particularly tall. He wore fine clothes, a high collared coat and a rather ridiculous hat—in Karasu's opinion, and a ledger over one shoulder. His hair was arranged in a neat and stylish, if somewhat impractical, curl. He was not particularly sturdy, she was sure she could outrun him, or possibly beat him in a straight fight, if it came to that.

But she wouldn't want to test the theory- there was just something about him. Not a _menace_, per se, but an air of wrongness. And eerie atmosphere that made the hair on the back of her neck stand on end.

And he was smiling. Not a real smile either, something that looked pasted on, a leering thing—it didn't reach his eyes, no more sincere than a coat of paint. She was instantly wary.

"Well, this is a surprise." He leaned in, and Karasu had to steel herself not to pull back.

"Who are you?" Karasu demanded.

He chuckled, "Isn't it considered polite to introduce one before asking another's name?"

She opened her mouth to launch a scathing retort, but hesitated. Before she could say a word he waved a hand airily, "As it happens, I am a… preacher of sorts. Spreading the word of hope and love. I travel the world— seeking to ease the suffering of others."

He leaned in again, much too close. "And you? You aren't seeking your destiny on these mountain roads, are you?"

"What?" Karasu demanded.

"All roads lead to Marr," The Preacher grinned, "And all destiny follows like water down a hill. Long ago war marched through this pass. It may soon do so again. I sense a very interesting destiny about you…Karasu."

Karasu swallowed, and this time she retreated, backing up a step. "How did you know my name? Who are you? I-I'm a caravanner, my friends will be here soon!" she yelped, "And I don't want whatever you're selling!"

"Ah, seeking the waters of life." He nodded sagely, and one hand rose to touch his chin thoughtfully, "But do you know their meaning? And where they will lead? Only _she_ knows it all…" His voice fell, so much so that Karasu almost missed it entirely.

Suddenly his head snapped up, "Ah, it would seem our guest has left us!" he lamented.

Karasu spun, sure enough; the no-good Selkie bimbo was gone, all that remained was the empty, sooty alley. She stamped her foot, incensed. It was no fair, her first time out, seeing the world and one of her own tribe had robbed her! They were probably in it together. She turned, expecting to see this 'preacher' gone as well.

To her surprise, he was still there, looking at her thoughtfully, he held out his hand. Between two fingers dangled the purse.

"Don't blame her; she'll help you when her time comes. In the days before your destiny is fulfilled." He added sagely. Karasu took the purse, little pinpricks running up the back of her neck. It was genuine, she could feet the weight of the coins and see the mark of Tipa, on the leather. Just as she had seen it in the other girl's hand. An enigmatic smile glimmered on his face.

"Take care; there is a long road yet."

He turned and started to walk off. With his back turned a little of her courage returned, "You never told me who you were."

"Oh, where are my manners today?" he turned and swept off his hat in a low bow, laughing, "Gurdy, at your service!"

He replaced the hat, and grinned at her, "We will meet again!" he added, and was gone.

A/N

Still looking for a beta…


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